


Let Him Eat Cake, Or The Key to Harry's Heart

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then he remembered the look on Severus's face when he'd told Harry that they needed to talk after dinner, the same 'walking to the executioner' look that every single one of Harry's previous boyfriends — and Ginny — had had when they broke up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Him Eat Cake, Or The Key to Harry's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alisanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/gifts).



> **Beta** : eeyore9990
> 
>  **A/N** : A belated birthday story for Alisanne, who requested Severus/Harry with a prompt of "Cake".

"Pudding," Harry said, fumbling for the menu and avoiding looking up at Severus. "It's not a real anniversary celebration if we don't have any pudding."

Severus didn't say anything, but Harry could feel that eyebrow lifting in taciturn condemnation. He hunched his shoulders and scanned the dessert listings.

"What about the chocolate tart? Or there's Millefeuille. With Elderflower?" He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Why would I want flowers in my pudding? Ugh. Makes it sound like a potion or something."

The chill from the other side of the table deepened.

 _Oh, that's brilliant. Putting down potions is really going to help._ Harry sighed. "They have sticky toffee pudding with... blech... brandy ice cream?" He tossed the menu onto the table. "Whatever happened to ordinary chocolate cake? I could really go for a slice of Victoria sponge or... mmmm... Black Forest gateau."

"Harry." Severus's deep voice seemed to caress his name, and Harry couldn't stop himself from looking up. "It's time to go."

Standing up, Severus tossed more than enough Galleons on the table to pay for their meal and a generous tip. Then he indicated that Harry should come with him.

Harry suppressed another sigh and followed Severus out of the restaurant. After they'd walked in silence for a couple of minutes, he kicked at a puddle and then stopped, watching the light shimmer in oily ripples.

Severus's footsteps hesitated and then halted. "We'll be caught in the rain again if we don't get moving,"

"What's the hurry? A flick of our wands and we're warm and dry again." Harry sloshed his boot through the water again. He was certainly not in any rush to have that _talk_ Severus had mentioned right before they left for the restaurant.

"That's hardly the point." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. His brows drew together, and the vertical line between them was so deep that it seemed to be carved into his skull.

Guilt rose inside Harry, and he almost gave in. Then he remembered the look on Severus's face when he'd told Harry that they needed to talk after dinner, the same 'walking to the executioner' look that every single one of Harry's previous boyfriends — and Ginny — had had when they broke up with him. He firmed his resolve, lifted his chin, and met Severus's glare head-on. Whatever Severus wanted, there was clearly no avoiding it, but he also didn't have to make it easy.

"What?" Harry asked, at the same time as Severus snapped, "Dunderhead."

They both stared at each other for an instant, before Severus said, "Meet me at my house," and Disapparated.

His eyes on the spot where Severus had been standing, Harry repeatedly stubbed his toe into the puddle and created ripple after oily ripple. He wanted Severus more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything in his entire life, he finally decided, and he was tired of being expected to accept what everyone else wanted for him. If Severus was thinking that Harry would just let him walk out, he had another think coming.

Having made up his mind, Harry pulled out his wand and Apparated.

~o~o~

As he always did, Harry landed in the small front room that Severus called "the parlour" and only used for Apparation or for company he didn't like. Severus, to Harry's dismay, was sitting in the only comfortable chair in the room.

Looking at Severus made Harry feel as if his insides had been hit with a Freezing hex. The only sign that Severus was planning to stay in for the rest of the night was the fact that he'd removed his cloak. Severus hadn't even taken off his boots, and he always did that — on one very special occasion, Severus had trusted Harry enough to get completely pissed with him and had admitted that he always went barefoot in his own house because it was the kind of 'disrespect' that had driven his Da up the wall and back down the other side.

"Harry."

The exquisite gentleness of Severus's tone had Harry wondering, for one half-hysterical moment, whether there was a Dark Lord hanging about nearby that he could run off and slay. That always seemed so much easier than facing the concern of people he cared about, especially the ones who wanted to "do what was best for both of them".

Still he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, so he straightened his spine, lifted his chin and said, "Severus," in as even a voice as he could manage.

Severus's brows drew together in a familiar thunderous expression, and he snarled, "Sit down."

Almost giddy with relief, Harry did as he was told. So promptly, in fact, that he was only saved from the embarrassment of falling on the floor by one of the uncomfortable, straight-backed wooden chairs sliding underneath him. Once he was settled, the chair glided forward a few more steps until he was right in front of Severus.

They sat like that for at least a minute, or possibly an hour, a month, or a year. Harry focussed on Severus's hands: the broad palms and the long, ink- and potion-stained fingers that were equally capable of bringing pleasure, creating magic, and causing pain.

Just as Harry's limited patience reached the snapping point and it was taking everything he had not to start fidgeting, Severus thrust something at him. "Here."

He was still fumbling with the hard and sharp metal object when Severus stood up. "Place it on the table and leave, or keep it and come back to the kitchen for dessert. The choice is yours."

Harry's chair moved back a step or two, getting out of Severus's way as he swept from the room. Harry gaped at the empty doorway for a moment before gathering himself together enough to look at what he'd been given.

The key was old-fashioned, made of tarnished brass and rust, and obviously hadn't been used to open a lock in more years than Harry had been alive. It hummed with magic, though, and warmed up when Harry closed his hand around it.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the annoying prickling and tightened his grip until the edges of the key bit into his fingers and palm. Then he toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his cloak. A wave of his wand sent them off to put themselves away, and he stood up. He padded out of the room in his stocking feet and down the dim hallway, all the way to the back and the brightly lit kitchen.

Two mugs stood on the table in front of their usual places, along with a slightly uneven, clearly homemade Victoria sponge. Severus turned from the counter, where he was scooping tealeaves into a chipped and stained teapot. The curtness of his nod and the easing of the crevice between his brows, made Harry smile.

"I'll sort it all out tomorrow," Harry said, and then he went to get plates and forks.

As they drank tea and ate Severus's cake, they talked about the spell Harry was trying to craft, the potion Severus was working on, and a hundred other random things. And Harry didn't let go of his key to Severus's house.


End file.
